


wasteland, baby (i'm in love, i'm in love with you)

by unsealie



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Buffskier, Carrying, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Soft Eskel (The Witcher), Winter At Kaer Morhen, geralt and jaskier are bffs, jaskier carries eskel to bed, that should be a tag, they are so in love it hurts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:47:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26274337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unsealie/pseuds/unsealie
Summary: He was instead greeted with the sight of his lover, curled up on the furs set out by the fire, snoring softly.It was Jaskier’s fourth winter at Kaer Morhen, his forty sixth winter alive, and his seventh winter in love with the man in front of him. Not that he was counting, but he definitely was.
Relationships: Eskel/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, friendship tho
Comments: 10
Kudos: 220





	wasteland, baby (i'm in love, i'm in love with you)

**Author's Note:**

> i hope u all enjoy! i've been working on this fic for a while, and now i can say it's finally finished. this is very gentle and very soft, which i've been writing a lot of recently.
> 
> a huge thank you to aaron and @havenoffandoms (on tumblr) for being my wonderful betas <3

It wasn’t often that Jaskier found himself awake when the moon was this high in the sky. But who could blame him, when he had a whole library in front of him?

It was his fourth winter at Kaer Morhen, and even with the amount of free time he had, he was sure he hadn’t made it through a quarter of the keep’s books. They were never ending, shelves upon shelves of knowledge and prose, words that seduced him and scared him in the same breath. Stories of the Witchers of old, the monsters they killed, and the history they had lived through. Jaskier was lost in the words, eating them up, desperate for more.

But the story ended as quickly as it started, and too soon Jaskier was faced with a leather cover. He closed the book, blinking a few times to adjust to the new scene in front of him. No more words, no. He was instead greeted with the sight of his lover, curled up on the furs set out by the fire, snoring softly. 

It was Jaskier’s fourth winter at Kaer Morhen, his forty sixth winter alive, and his seventh winter in love with the man in front of him. Not that he was counting, but he definitely was. 

He had traveled with Geralt for years, and they were still friends now, years later. They no longer traveled together, but when they inevitably came home each winter, they came home to each other. They were at each other’s throats constantly, joking around and roughhousing, calling each other horrid names and falling into fits of laughter afterwards. They were close, best friends after years of denial and heartache, and Jaskier wouldn’t have it any other way. He realized that they were much better friends than they were lovers

They had separated one summer when their paths had led them in separate directions. Jaskier was to head to Novigrad at the request of Zoltan as Geralt headed further into the swamps of Velen, a Foglet contract calling his name. Jaskier had kissed Geralt’s cheek in farewell, tugging at a strand of his hair when he pulled away with a sly grin. After that, he had been on his own. 

Jaskier had made his way to Novigrad, stopping in towns and playing for the people, spreading his name through the Continent. He had new songs to show off, and old ones that never failed to get the crowd on its feet. Jaskier the Bard was well known, and he intended to keep it that way.

Jaskier certainly hadn’t intended to run into another Witcher on his way to Novigrad. He and  _ his _ Witcher had just parted, and they weren’t meant to meet up for a few seasons. A delightful break from the rough of the road, a few months spent in the comfort of a place he could almost call home. But when he saw the Witcher in front of Novigrad’s notice board, he found that he certainly wasn’t complaining. Another Witcher from School of the Wolf, with dark hair and ruddy cheeks, scars tugging at his brow and at lips that smiled so easily. He was different from Geralt in every way possible, but that only drew Jaskier in.

The man’s name was Eskel, and Jaskier felt something warm bloom in his chest every time Eskel looked at him. They became friends fast. After their first meeting in the streets of Novigrad, they met up and traveled together when they could. Summers spent full of laughter, sweat sweetened by their smiles. Eventually, autumns were spent with their hands intertwined, the leaves crunching beneath their feet. The looming chill of winter that would inevitably tear them away from each other.

Jaskier hadn’t forgotten Geralt, but he had found another person to love. Someone who desperately needed it, just like Geralt had. And this someone was someone who was able to love him back openly. 

It wasn’t a surprise that Jaskier and Eskel grew close while they walked side by side through the seasons. It was a small part of his reputation, being known for falling in love fast and hard. Jaskier owned it with pride. He had a big heart and he gave it to people willingly, sharing pieces of himself with those who asked. He loved with everything he had, gave himself over to people and bared his neck. Whether a mouth or a blade found his throat next, well, that would be a surprise.

They didn’t define their relationship for months, but they didn’t feel the need to. Jaskier was content to walk alongside Eskel, holding his hand, living for his smiles. It wasn’t love, not at first. Companionship, maybe. Someone who wasn’t going to judge you, someone who was willing to warm your bed but tease you over your bedhead the next morning. What they had was easy, gentle and happy in nature. Jaskier didn’t want to be the one to ruin that.

In the end, nothing was ruined by anyone. Jaskier had broken down one night after a romp in the sheets, sobbing with a fist pressed against his mouth. He had realized that this wasn't what he truly wanted. Sure, he wanted Eskel, but he wanted the man’s heart, not just his hands. He wanted a proper relationship, not just some fun. He wanted everything that Eskel was willing to give, and he wanted to give all of himself in return. 

His worrying had been for naught. Jaskier’s ceaseless rambling was cut off by a soft pair of lips, the notch in them as familiar as the backs of his eyelids, and he felt hands gently cupping his cheeks. His tears rubbed into his cheeks as Eskel kissed him, and if he hadn’t felt true love before, he certainly did in that moment.

Two years later, Jaskier visited Kaer Morhen for the first time. Eskel was bringing him  _ home _ , and something about that made his stomach twist in anxious knots. Thankfully, he was already familiar with one person at the keep; Eskel’s best friend, his brother. Jaskier and Geralt had fallen to the floor with the force of their hug, and to his surprise, Lambert had been the one to offer a hand and help him up. He was pulled into another hug, albeit one that was a bit more rough. 

  
His first winter at the keep went rather smoothly, even if he was teased mercilessly about the noise from his and Eskel’s room, and he was glad to say that he left the next spring with a hop in his step and a family beside him. Kaer Morhen was more of a home than Lettenhove had ever been, and Jaskier found that he was excited to return.

Years passed and still Jaskier stayed by Eskel’s side. They had been almost everywhere, visiting the coasts of Skellige and the rolling hills of Toussaint, sleeping under the stars wrapped in each other's arms. They fell in love over and over again, and every night when Jaskier looked up into Eskel’s eyes, he could have sworn he saw everything he’s ever wanted there.

And now, he’s reached his forty sixth winter. Jaskier has a home, and he’s in love, and he’s looking down at Eskel, curled up in front of the fire. And fuck, something in his chest burned in the best way possible. 

Jaskier brought himself back to the present, setting his book aside. He had finished it, sure, but he could always read it again, get some good notes for songs. He stood slowly and moved to kneel by Eskel’s head. “We’ve got to go to bed, my love,” he murmured, running calloused fingers through thick hair. He had stayed up much later than he had intended to, and now he had a sleepy monster to take care of. Melitele knew how grumpy Eskel got when woken up.

He watched as Eskel’s nose scrunched, uncurling as he stretched. “Should’ve been a Cat Witcher,” Jaskier said, his voice alight with laughter. “Sure act like one, with the way you behave when you wake.”

He received a glare in return, but it was seriously undermined by the yawn Eskel let out. Slowly, he slipped his arm under Eskel’s, behind his back, the other going under his knees. Jaskier hadn’t lived this long sitting on his ass- no, he was capable of doing heavy lifting just like his Witchers were. 

As the oldest of the three wolf pups, Eskel filled the big brother role. He carried Lambert to his room when he was too drunk to walk, brushed Geralt’s hair after a bath, and for the longest time he had left both sides of his own bed empty for them to crawl into after rough nights. He cared for his brothers, truly, and he knew they cared for him. But for once in his life, Eskel was the one being carried to his room, held gently like he was  _ delicate _ . The strong arms underneath him felt like a blessing, one he never wanted to give up.

Jaskier was careful when he lifted Eskel off of the floor, not wanting to disturb him too much. The trip to their room was short, and he spent the whole way there murmuring soft nonsense, his words unimportant but his voice soothing. He watched as Eskel blinked sleepily, and Jaskier thought that the weight currently in his arms would forever be the most important thing he’s ever carried. 

They got to their room and Jaskier wasn’t surprised to find that Eskel had barely stirred; he was always most relaxed at home. Gently, he lowered Eskel onto the bed. He wished they could stay in this moment forever.

Jaskier sighed and started undressing his lover, getting his boots off first, and then his belt and trousers, helping him get more comfortable for bed. Their room was dark, save for a few candles scattered on desks and shelves and window sills. He could hear the rain pattering against the window, the soft crackling of the wood in the fireplace, each of Eskel’s inhales and exhales. It was calm here, in this place that belonged to only them. Tomorrow would be loud- Yennefer was coming to visit the keep with Cirilla, who had insisted that Triss and Tissaia come as well. Lambert had plans which involved plenty of pranks, and Geralt had been dragged into the preparations. Eskel would likely be their first victim. And Jaskier, well, he had a family to attend to. 

He wouldn’t give his family up for the world. It didn’t matter that they weren’t blood. But sometimes, in moments like these, he wished he and Eskel had a home of their own. Maybe one day he’d suggest the idea. A home by the coast, where they could rest their weary bones, where they could wake up warm and safe every single day. Where the Path wasn’t a constant weight on Eskel’s shoulders. Where they could retire and spend the rest of their years together.

One day, he’d ask. For now, he got himself changed and climbed into bed beside his lover.

Jaskier sat for a moment and fussed with the sheets, getting them settled over himself and Eskel. He gave up after a moment, knowing the sheets would end up a mess by morning- Eskel loved to steal them, as cold as Witchers got. 

He ducked down and kissed Eskel’s forehead, settling down in bed. Eskel was quick to curl up to his warmth, and Jaskier smiled sleepily, tucking his Witcher against his chest. Eskel had always loved being held, being the smaller spoon while they slept.

Their legs were tangled together, Jaskier’s arm thrown over Eskel’s waist, and their sleep that night was easy. Eskel didn’t wake till late morning, Jaskier still pressed against his side. He smiled, something easy now. Around him were the scents of  _ Jaskier _ and  _ love _ and  _ home _ . He thought he’d like to have this forever.

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos are much appreciated! u can find me @lovelyeskel on tumblr


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